Just Two CoWorkers Getting Kidnapped
by chloooeee
Summary: What happens between Jane and Lisbon when they become trapped on a train with no phones, weapons or any idea where they are heading? They find out some funny, buried truths about each other that will bring them closer together... or further apart!


Patrick Jane's eyes opened a fraction. Above him was a rusty metal ceiling and industrial tubing plastered the walls - if they could be classed as walls that is. It looked as though he was lying in a tin can. Trapped. Though, around him, he could hear a faint whistling sound and the whooshing of air escaping through the poorly built container. He thought back to what may have happened but, try as he might, he could simply not remember. As he sat up, he became apparent that the tin can in which he resided was moving at a very fast pace; this was responsible for the inviting vibrations he felt when resting on the floor, luring him to sleep, to give in to the ever growing darkness. Closing his eyes, he rested against a barrel of something nondescript while his head spun. A pulsating throb lingered in his ears. He contemplated going back to sleep for a moment, to escape the unappealing odour of rust that clogged the air, and the icy chill that continued to sweep in from the unfinished walls.

"Jane?" called a woman's voice from behind several large aluminium barrels. It took a moment for him to register it as Teresa Lisbon's tone; strange – his senses did not seem to be entirely in check. He saw a dark haired figure slowly rise, take a full 360 degree turn and then he caught her eye. "Oh..." She began, and he watched her arrive beside him, a look of concern on her pale face.

"Hey Lisbon, nice breeze in here don't you think?" He offered lightly. She frowned, as if not expecting such a casual answer.

"You're covered in blood." She gestured to Jane's forehead and he raised a hand to check her suspicions. Sure enough, Lisbon was right. Jane's forefinger was speared with his blood. Maybe this is why he couldn't remember?

"It's nothing," he waved it off, surely Lisbon wasn't worried? It was simply a graze. "I'm fine, Lisbon. For goodness sake don't worry! I'm fine as rain. Right as rain I mean." Bored of Lisbon's patronising glare he stood. Although, this proved the wrong choice when he almost tipped over the container he had been previously resting on.

"I think you should sit down, take it easy for a while. We need to try and figure out how to get out of here." She looked around for something to sit on when Jane spotted a pile of crates in a corner, a few feet away. He made a gesture with his hand, too lazy to speak. He wished he was asleep again right now, listening to the soothing hum of the engine...

"Here you are," said Lisbon, offering him the taller of the two crates. Jane perched on it. He felt better than he did a moment ago, he was starting to recall memories now... Flashes of vivid colour and light invaded his mind's eye – it was almost like a dream.

"How did we exactly end up in this inviting little tin can then, Lisbon?" Jane questioned. All he needed was a few details and it could all come back to him. Lisbon scowled, annoyed. She made her angry-schoolgirl face as she glared at him – this whole thing was probably going to be somehow his fault.

"We're on a train I think," she started, gazing round at their dire surroundings. Jane followed her gaze. The container was several metres long and made from a rusty metal that reeked like the corpses they were used to finding at crime scenes. Standard concrete was their floor; it was home to a few dark stains that looked rather sinister. Piled into this container were barrels. Barrels and barrels of unmarked substances were piled on top of each other; they were faded red in colour, a sign of danger perhaps? A lone mark was present on each of the barrels, a luminous green skull and crossbones combination. Didn't exactly look too professional...

"How did we get here?" Jane pestered once more. He could remember details now. There was a tall dark man named Terrance and several other men who donned dark clothes. He could see their mouths moving but hear no sound.

"It was your fault, actually," Lisbon began. She continued her unthreatening glares as she delved into further into her story. "We have been working on a case for the past few days, do you remember?" She seemed less concerned for Jane's welfare now; she was still fronting her aggressive, authoritive act.

"There was an old guy murdered in his million dollar mansion. You thought the wife at first, but then I discovered his secret library-turned-safe room. I mean come on, the rich guys always have 'em." Jane gave a relaxed, humorous smile. He was pleased he had managed to practically solve another case; he enjoyed his work – especially the friendly competition with his co-workers. Lisbon didn't return the grin and instead she pursed her lips. "Err, anyway," Jane began, waving his hands, surrendering. "I found a load of drug documents and stuff in that safe and... borrowed them, for a while." Lisbon made a faint 'humph' sound at this particularly Jane-like act but he ignored her, a faint smile echoed on his lips and he continued. "I went to stakeout the drug guys' hideout to get some more info on the down low, but you decided to follow me." Jane raised an eyebrow, questioning Lisbon's act. If she hadn't have turned up then things would have been a lot different –he could remember!

"Hey, I saved your ass out there!" She began indignantly, defending her cause for following Jane. "If I hadn't have followed you-"

"I would have got in and out like a mouse. Without a peep."

"You would have gotten yourself killed," she retorted, leaning forward. She frowned.

"Hey, you are the one that clanged that big cop gun against the railing," defended Jane, eagerly. It was half-hearted though, and Lisbon could tell.

"Oh you know it was me that saved you; your pride just can't admit it. You can never be wrong can you?" Raising an eyebrow, Jane knew that Lisbon had got him on that one. Though, she _was _right. Patrick Jane, fake psychic turned criminal-catcher was usually always right, and he knew it.

"You'll have to help me with the next part of the story, it's a bit hazy," Jane began, pressing two fingers to his temple. He massaged it thoroughly, avoiding replying to Lisbon's all too true comment, as if hoping some miraculous stream of memories would appear in his mind's eye at any moment. "You followed me inside the back entrance and confronted me. I told you that I knew you were going to follow me but you said that was ridiculous. You insisted that it was luck that you found where I was going but I told you to shush. You were annoyed but then we heard two of the scary guys with guns discussing that old guy's murder..." Jane lost track of his memory. It became distorted and blurred once again.

"Then you started whispering some ridiculous, dangerous plan at me that was bound to get us killed. I decided to try and call for back up as it was the_ sensible_ thing to do but then you told me to stop. Loudly. Then they spotted us, and a bunch of guys drew their guns. They were going to shoot us until they found out I was a cop. So to clarify, yeah Jane, I did save your ass!" finished Lisbon. She looked pleased with her argument.

"Danger shmanger, I just wanted to plant some information that would confuse them – the ring leader would have been tricked into confessing eventually!" Jane insisted. He knew it would have been okay – wouldn't it? Would they really have shot him if a stroke of luck hadn't have summoned Lisbon to the abandoned warehouse? He reassured himself that he wasn't losing his smooth, calculated touch. "What happened after they found us?"

"They gagged and bagged me. I heard someone get hit with something and a body fall to the floor," Lisbon looked up at Jane, it must have been him that she had heard, "And then before I could string any coherent thought together they knocked me out with chlorophyll."

"Then we wound up in here and lived happily ever after. The end." Jane finished sarcastically, scowling at the inside of the train cart. He had once again found himself at the mercy of a suspect. He was getting too old for this...

"We need to get out of here," said Lisbon, standing up. She began to pace the small space, void of stinking barrels and then stopped. Looking down at Jane, she began to speak. "I haven't got my phone or gun; they must've stripped us of everything-"

"I still have my jelly babies though," Jane pulled a packet of half eaten sweets from his pocket. The more he looked at them, the hungrier he began to feel. Lisbon grumbled disapprovingly at the interruption and continued.

"They stripped us of everything so we can't call the team for help. This train has to stop somewhere eventually though, so when we slow down we'll have to find a way of getting out undetected."

"Yeah, if we haven't ended up in Antarctica by then; we must've been in this thing for hours," Jane nodded at the miniscule gaps in the old metal roof. The air blowing inwards was becoming increasingly colder and the colour of the sky outside was dark.

"Well we'll just have to play the waiting game," sighed Lisbon. She sat down again and Jane looked away. He became lost in thought as the train continued along its winding path. The hum of the engine could not tempt him to sleep or distract him from his wandering, scattered thoughts. What Patrick Jane needed right now, was a plan.


End file.
